“That statement is so oddly specific. I can’t tell if you are bullshitting me or not.”
I give her a smirk. My chocolate addiction is a real thing. I’ve loved the stuff since I was a kid, but the Cadbury obsession is one Parker regrets creating after bringing me to spend Christmas with his family years ago. I force him to bring me back an entire bag of the stuff whenever he travels home.
“I guess you’ll just have to give me your social security number to find out.”
She rolls her eyes as she turns back to finish making her way to Luisa. I stand off to the side as she pays. When she finishes, she turns and holds her hand out to me, palm up. Which is a little weird, but I high-five her anyway.
“No, dumbass, your phone. Or did you really want my social security number?”
I am a dumbass.
An actual idiot.
This woman. She brings out every part of me.
Pulling my phone from my jeans pocket, I unlock it and open it to the contacts app before slipping it into her hand. I’m careful to watch as she types that no weird texts or notifications pop up. I had two phones at one point, one for Aleksander and one for Blade. But it became such a pain in the ass, I reverted back to one phone and just got a second e-SIM for it. Which means that any number of things could pop up, especially stream notifications or Discord messages.
I hate handing people my phone. When your life is based online, it breeds a certain level of anxiety around privacy.
“Here, I texted myself, but,” she scans me up and down, “we’ll see if you actually text me.”
I take the phone back, glancing at the screen.
Stevie Andwell.
“I guess we will.”
***
“On second thought, maybe I should just wear a blue tie. It’s kind of my thing.”
“I don’t care what color the tie is, it’ll all look the same against your pale neck when I’m strangling you with it.”
“I said I was sorry!”
I shoot Parker another glare before going back to the game on my phone. Even though my career is PC based, I spend my free time outside of training, streaming, and filming by playing on my consoles or my phone. It’s a way to keep my brain working and hand-eye coordination up without feeling burnt out over the same games over and over. It’s like ordering takeout from a different cuisine: you love food altogether, but you need to switch it up, otherwise you’ll get sick of the same thing.
My phone vibrates from a text notification, and my heart pauses for a second before realizing it’s from Sydney and not Stevie.
Stevie left right after buying her dress; apparently, the store she wanted to buy shoes from was far away, and she wanted to get there before traffic hit. I was tempted to try to find a way to get her to stay, but begging a girl is not really my style.
SYD: Your interview’s confirmed. Sent you the calendar invite.
SYD: Don’t decline it.
I groan. I know Syd wouldn’t have agreed to the interview if she didn’t think it was worth the opportunity, but it’s still a pain. Hopefully it’s an online interview and not something at a coffee shop. I did that once, and it was awful.
“Oh yeah, the blue is proper good.”
I glance up to see Parker admiring the shit out of himself in the mirror. The guy is like a damned peacock half the time – he buys more clothes than Jackson and me combined. I’ve never met a guy who is so optimistic and nerdy but also full of himself and bleeding money.
“Have you made a decision, Mr. Covington?”
The sales associate has popped back around. The old guy has been watching Parker like a hawk. He could smell the sales commission from a mile away. I have to give him credit, he picked the best mark.
“Yes, I’ll be taking this tie. You can add it to the same tab as earlier with the cufflinks and shoes, and then I’ll be done.”
He hands the tie over to the associate.
“Wonderful choice. I’ll get the payment processed. The tie is two hundred and forty dollars which brings your total to one thousand seven hundred and forty-five. Just to confirm.”
“Perfectly well, John.”
The old man shuffles off with excitement, and I stare at Parker as he shrugs his bomber jacket back on.
“What’s the tie made of? The emperor’s holy silk?”
“It’s Gucci, you ass.”
“Oh, of course. How uncultured of me.”
“Mate, you act like you don’t make double the rest of us.”
“Not true if you add in your inheritance.”
He just sighs in response and starts walking away from me to the sales desk. He knows I’m right. The Covingtons are stupid rich. I could stream for another ten years and still not be worth half as much as he is right now.
“Plus, having money doesn’t mean I can tell a brand from a mile away.”
“True, you can buy fame, but you can’t buy culture.”
I gasp and fake grasp my chest. “Ouch. I’ll have you know I have never bought followers, Mr. Covington.”
“You know I hate it when you call me that.” He throws his Black Card on the desk and turns to me. “Where did you go earlier, anyway?”
“I just saw something that caught my eye.”
***
Jackson’s penchant for pineapple on pizza is a choice, to say the least.
I stack the four boxes of pizza on my lap before buckling my seatbelt. Parker took his Ferrari 812 Superfast GTS out today, which means there is no backseat I can throw the pizzas in—not that Parker would let me do that in any of his cars. He complains that the smell of pizza leaks into the leather and that he would sooner put the pizza in its own Uber than let that happen. While I agree with him on the leather thing, the Uber part is a little out there. Which is why all four pizzas are now uncomfortably warming up my thighs.
Parker presses the button that rolls the roof off as he starts up the engine. It revs to life, and we grin at each other as he roars out of the parking lot at a speed that is inappropriate for the space.
The warm spring air blasts around us, and I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of the car purring around me and the bass thumping into me. Out of everyone, Parker is the best to drive with. He doesn’t pussyfoot when it comes to how loud he plays music and isn’t afraid to go way above the speed limit when he can.
We both have an appreciation for fast cars and killer bikes. His family has a track in Italy that he brought me out to one fall where we raced a bunch of new models his family friend was testing out. One of the best life experiences ever. If there’s anything I’ll spend money on after PC hardware and video game merch, it’s motorcycles.
Sydney, however, refuses to ride with either of us. When she can, she’ll only let Jackson drive. The few times she gets tricked into driving with Parker or me, she screams like a banshee the entire time.
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and shift to pull it out from underneath the pizzas.
Stevie.
Finally.
I tamp down the smile I feel forming at the edges. The last thing I need is Parker looking over and asking me any questions. He is already suspicious about the mall, and as carefree as Parker may seem, he has a sly streak hidden beneath that golden boy exterior.
I shot her a text while we were waiting for pizza to see if she’d be down to meet up tomorrow to grab a bite or coffee. I’m not one to play games and wait twenty-four hours to text her or some bullshit. If I’m interested, I’m interested. If I’m not, then I just let it fizzle out. The good thing is I never give out my number as Blade, so I never have to worry about those one-night stands trying to contact me. Aleksander, however, sometimes makes the drunken mistake of handing over his number, which does result in a problem at times.